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Pulp Fiction, 1950 · page 17 of 133

A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, July 1950 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, July 1950 — page 17: Pulp Fiction, 1950

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0” ai Wathen ie. SS. oy , ea o > ~~. 5 a ae es = = " os, ‘THE FACE IN THE ABYSS liberately missed the trail or had erased the signs. Only when the two of them joined Sterrett and drank with the Quicha hell-brew did either of them relax. At such times Graydon had the uneasy feel- ing that his life might be hanging on a thin thread. On the day that his adventure really be- gan—that strange adventure to which all that had passed before had been a prel- ude—Graydon was coming back to camp. He had been hunting since morning. Dancre and Soames had gone off together on another desperate search for the miss- ing symbols that would lead them to the treasure trail again. UT off in mid-flight, the girl’s cry came to him as the answer to all his apprehensions; materialization of the menace toward which his vague fears had been groping ever since he had left Ster- rett alone at the camp hours ago. He had sensed some culminating misfortune close —and here it was! He knew it; how, he did not stop himself to ask; he was sure. He broke into a run, stumbling up the slope to the group of gray green algarroba trees where the tent was pitched. What had the drunken fool done? Gray- don had warned them all th.t their situa- tion was perilous; that if Indians came they must try to make friends with them —that they must be superlatively careful in their treatment of any Indian women. He reached the algarrobas; crashed through the light undergrowth to the little clearing. Why didn’t the girl cry out again, he wondered. There was a sickness at his heart. A low chuckle reached him, thick, satyr toned. Then Sterrett’s voice, cruel mocking! “No more fight in you, eh? Well, which’ll it be, pretty lady—the way to the gold or you? And by Heaven—I guess it’ll be you—first!” For an instant Graydon paused. He saw that Sterrett, half crouching, was holding the girl bow fashion over one knee, A thick arm was clinched about her neck, the fingers clutching her mouth _ brutally, silencing her; his right had fet- _ tered her slender wrists; her knees were Se ‘Sprang forward he —_ a flash of wide caught in the vise of his bent right leg. She was helpless, but as Graydon a “ . - — Se — - - io Pn nN a black eyes, wrath filled and defiant, star- ing fearlessly into those leering so close. He caught Sterrett by the hair, locked an arm under his chin, drawing his head gio y back. rop her!” he ordered. “Drop her— quick!” Sterrett hurled himself to his feet, drop- ping the girl as he rose. “What the hell are you butting in for?” he snarled. His hand struck down toward his pistol. But even while the fingers were tightening around the butt, Graydon’s fist shot out and caught him on the point of the hairy jaw. The clutching fingers loosened, the half drawn pistol slipped to the ground, the great foe = quivered and toppled over. Long aloes it fell the girl had leaped up and away. Graydon did not look after her. She had gone no doubt to bring down upon them her people, some tribe of those fierce Aymaras that even the Incas of old had never quite conquered and who would avenge her—in ways that Graydon did not like to visualize. He bent down over Sterrett. His heart was beating ; feebly it was true—but beat- ing. The reek of drink was sickening. Graydon’s hand touched the fallen pistol, He picked it up and looked speculatively at the fallen man’s rifle. Sterrett, between the blow and the drink, would probably be out of the running for hours. He wished that Dancre and Soames would get back soon to camp. The three of them could put up a good fight at any rate; might even have a chance for escape. So ran his thoughts. But Dancre and Soames would have to return quickly. The girl would soon be there—with the avengers; no doubt at this very moment she was telling them of her wrongs. He turned— She stood there, looking at him! And drinking in her loveliness, Gray- don forgot the man at his feet; forgot all, and was content to let his soul sit undis- turbed within his eyes and take its de- light to her. Her skin was palest ivory. It gleamed translucent through the rents of the soft — amber fabric like the thickest silk that swathed her. Her eyes were deep velvety pool, oval, a little tilted ; tian in the t= . wide midnight of their irises. But the — features were ee comicboo s:com 3 ne ~~ - a el Gen